'•» 




Class "?S^53 l 
Book, ^'AH^ 
Copyright ]^°_ . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE HILL TRAILS 

A BOOK OF VERSE 



BY 
ARTHUR WALLACE PEACH 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1917 



«,-^\^'^ 



^^^v 



Ck)PYBIGHT, 1917 

Sherman, French 6^ Company 



JAM -4 1318 

©C1.A479828 



TO 

MY MOTHER 



AUTHOR'S NOTE 

I wish to thank the editors of the pubHca- 
tions listed below for their kindness in permit- 
ting me to republish from their columns such 
verse of mine as I cared to include in this vol- 
ume. The list: Munsey's Magaziney Ainslee*s 
Magazine, Collier's Weekly, Smart Set, Lippin- 
cotfs Magazine, National Magazine, Overland 
Monthly, The Delineator, New York Sun, 
Smith's Magazine, People's Home Journal, Ave 
Maria, Town Topics, New York Times, The 
Christian Advocate, Boston Transcript, Simset 
Magazine, Holland's Magazine, The Church- 
man, The Independent, Christian Endeavor 
World, Sunday School Times, Farm and Home, 
Orange Judd Farmer, American Messenger, 
Epworth Herald, The Congregationalist. 

I also wish to express my appreciation of the 
interest readers have taken in the poems as they 
have appeared serially. That friendly interest 
is the sole reason for the appearance of " The 
Hill Trails." 

Arthur Wallace Peach. 
Edge O' Pines, 
Ames Hill, 
West Brattleboro, 
Vermont. 



CONTENTS 

, PAGE 

The Song of the Hiul Trails .... 1 

The Open Seas S 

The Fools 5 

Alchemy 6 

Height and Hearth 7 

Kinship 8 

Twilight 9 

Winds of Yesterday 10 

The Visitor 12 

The Hills of Enchantment IS 

Humanity 1* 

If Hearts Were Candles 15 

Voyagers 1^ 

The Home Lights * . 17 

An Old Inn 18 

The Frolic Wind .19 

Storm 21 

The Legend of the Fadeless Rose ... 22 

The Ancient Call 24 

The Common Ways 26 

The Inn 27 

When Evening Like an Angel .... 28 

The Cherished 29 

The Battlefield SO 

Longing ^^ 

The Cross 32 

Day's Close SS 

The Secret 3* 

The Wells of Sleep S5 



PAGE 

A Son of Pan 36 

To One Grown Old 37 

Autumn 38 

The Hills in Absence 39 

The Hidden Gate 40 

Memories 41 

An Old Church 42 

Dusk and Dawn 43 

Spring Rain 44 

The Angel of the Twilight 45 

Vespers 47 

Assurance 48 

As the Years Pass 49 

Reunion . 50 

The Brotherhood 51 

Power 52 

A Question 53 

In After Years 54 

Teachers 55 

Those Who Answer Not 56 

In Answer 57 

The Dials 58 

Lilacs of Memory 59 

The Season's End 60 

The Masquerader 61 

Evening Rain 62 

A Footnote 63 

The Full Life ; . . 64 

In the Angel's Book 65 

In a Twilight Garden 66 



PAGE 

The Wind's Invitation 67 

The First Sorrow 68 

Without Thee 69 

Sunset from a City Tower 70 

A Song of the Road 72 

Genesis 73 

The Wager 74 

In an Old Garden Forgotten .... 76 

Old Ports 77 

The Sunset Isles 78 

Night and the Ages 80 

Requiem 82 

The Watcher 83 

Exiles 84 

The Lowly Pledge 86 

A Twilight Plea 87 

Song's End 88 



THE HILL TRAILS 



THE SONG OF THE HILL TRAILS 

Quiet runs the valley way 

Where the river dreams, 
And the winds go light along, 
Weaving into tender song 

Happy moods and themes ; 
Upward where from mountain heart 

Breathe the stormy gales, 
And the white-plumed torrents cry. 
Plunging rocky barriers by, 

Run the hilly trails. 

Oh, the high trails, the hill trails 

The sunny trails of brown. 
Seeing first the sun arise 

And last its going down ! 
Ever do they call the heart 

With their windings far. 
Luring feet to follow on 

Where peak is friend with star! 

Quiet runs life's valley way. 

Gently for the feet. 
But there vision fails the eyes 
Looking to the narrow skies 

Where mount and cloudland meet. 
Only on the mountain path 

Vision never fails ; 
Shimmering plains are far away, 

[1] 



And beauty lingers night and day 
On the hilly trails. 

Oh, the high trails, the hill trails, 

Life's lofty trails await, 
Mounting through the flaming dawn, 

The pilgrim heart elate. 
Glorious are the visions there. 

Far the eye can see 
Wonders of the years agone. 

And of the years to be ! 



[«] 



THE OPEN SEAS 

"Sail with God the seas." — Emerson. 

A SHIP passed the harbor at night where the 
tide-lulled boats were resting, 

And turned to the open sea, the star-linked bil- 
lows breasting; 

A song came soft on the wind, over the dark 
waves winging — 

A song with a burthen sweet, as of sailors' far- 
off singing. 

" Break from thy moorings of age and despair, 
Thou in the harbor sleeping! 
Peace that is there is the peace of the dead; 
Death with the years comes creeping. 
Hail, thou who sleepest ! 
Awake ! 
Break from they moorings and swing to the 

breeze — 
Come, sail with thy God the wide, open seas ! 

" Storms thou shalt meet that will temper thy 
soul, 
Ever thy heart's strength trying; 
But far at the end are the gleam of the goal 
And glories worth the dying ! 
Hail, thou who sleepest! 
Awake ! 



[3] 



Truth needs thy strength and thy Hfe — heed 

her pleas ! 
Come, sail with thy God the great, open 



seas: 



I " 



A ship passed the harbor at night where the 

silent boats were resting, 
And turned to the outer sea, as if on a far 

course keeping; 
A song came soft on the wind, a call to strong 

manhood bringing — 
A song with a burthen sweet, over the dark 

waves winging! 



[4] 



THE FOOLS 

They wore on life's great stage the cap and 
bells, 
And played a happy fool's low comic parts ; 
About them wailed the battle's solemn knells, 
And lovers fought to win their maidens' 
hearts. 

The tumult echoes far, the banners wave 
No more with silken song o'er plumed head, 

No more in sounding charge the war-horns 
rave. 
And kingdoms mingle with the ancient dead. 

The dusty pages tell the kingly tale 

Of crowns and honors bartered for a kiss ; 

On tombs the sculptured praise begins to fail — 
Death buries all from sight in night's abyss. 

And who has wisdom now — the king or fool ? 
Which sweeter is — steel's clang or rolic 
song? 
From kings and conquerors of ages cruel 

Time lifts the wreaths and crowns the motley 
throng ! 



[5] 



ALCHEMY 

I HEAR the voice of evening on the hills, 

Like sound of pilgrim pipes on distant 

ways; 
Sweet from the misty meadows' silver haze 
Brook answers brook with song, and childish 

rills 
Are calling each to each. There night distills 
Her dews, and 'mid the rushes each pool 

lays 
Its chart of starry skies; there evening 
plays 
Upon the trees a song that soothes and thrills. 

At evening's summoning, what sprites arise. 
What pixies, fairies in the woodlands meet 
Of course cannot be known or even 
guessed. 
For they no more are seen by profane eyes ; 
But magic is abroad and fays discreet. 
When common ways with twilight's charm 
are dressed! 



[6] 



HEIGHT AND HEARTH 

Thy pace I cannot keep, 

The hills are cold; 
Far down the home lights gleam 

By bam and fold. 

Thy eager feet can mount 

Fame's star-led way, 
Mine for the meadows long, 

The common day. 

Speed thou — the gleaming heights 

With cheer essay ! 
I at my cottage door 

Will watch and pray. 



m 



KINSHIP 

Afar from gleaming streets, when night had 
thrown 
Her magic mantle o'er the countryside, 
I stood upon a hill with vision wide, 

And saw the meadows of the night with star 
bloom sown; 

The winds seemed winging by soft music blown 
From cosmic choirs ; I felt the voiceless tide 
From dark eternal deeps around me glide: 

I stood with alien things of dusk, alone. 

Chill with the ancient fear of night and star. 
The brooding form that walks the aisles of 
eve. 
The silence dread that seems about to 
speak, 
I turned where shining streets and loved ones 
are. 
And joyed like one who suddenly might leave 
With homeward thought some still, gray, 
northern peak ! 



[8] 



TWILIGHT 

A WILD rose red aflame on the hills 
Whence the weary day has flown, 

A rush of night down the wooded steeps 
The sunset rose has blown. 

Here in the valley gray and still 

Go our dreams on their nightly quest - 

O that over the hills had gone 
The thoughts that never rest ! 



[9] 



WINDS OF YESTERDAY 

Over the hills you fled from me, 

Oh, winds of yesterday ! 
Bearing from me so much I loved. 

Oh, winds of yesterday — 

A bit of the golden dust of youth, 

Blowing it far with careless ruth ; 

The laugh of a friend, a low, sweet song 

Sung when the shadows lingered long; 

A hope that died with the setting sun, 

A dream that waned when day was done — 

These and a thousand loved things more 
You took from my life for evermore ; 
And never a prayer that priests can frame, 
Never a charm that lips can name. 
Never the yearnings of worlds of men. 
Can bring them back to me again ! 

Yet if you come no more to me, 

Oh, winds of yesterday, 
Out of the shadowy hills of the past, 

Oh, winds of yesterday — 

I'll treasure the dust that still remains. 
Shield it from loss and darksome stains ; 
The friendly voice with its cheery thrill 
Shall speak with the old loved accents still; 
[10] 



The strain of the song that fled away 
My heart shall recall at the close of day. 

The hope that died I shall ne'er regret, 
For hopes must die and hearts forget; 
The dream that waned in the bright day's glare 
Remembered still leads me to do and dare. 
Life is calling forever great deeds to perform, 
Love waits still to guide me through shadow 

and storm ; 
I follow you not on your far hill way — 
Farewell, ye winds of yesterday ! 



[11] 



THE VISITOR 

Some one down the city street " 

Passed unseen, on soundless feet. 

Who it was I do not know, 

But I saw worn faces glow, 

And I saw dim eyes grow bright 

With a rapturous delight; 

Sweeter came the children's laughter; 

Longer echoed it thereafter. 

Some one came and went along 

Through the wide street's crowded throng. 

In the forest, far away. 
Some one crept at close of day. 
Folded softly wing on wing — 
A wind of spring! 



[12] 



THE HILLS OF ENCHANTMENT 

High o'er the sunset's splendor, long ago, 
Piled on the flaming clouds, I saw them shine ; 
Their peaks, agleam with golden light divine, 

Plunged in the starry tides' unceasing flow. 

They are, I thought, beyond our earth's deep 
woe ; 
Their circling heights Avilion confine. 
And Arthur's home which meadows deep en- 
shrine, 

Where hail falls not and winds are ever low. 

Long did I dream — might I find the way. 
Look once ere death and see those meadows 
gleam. 
Hear winds and brooks that have no sound 
save song! 
Then, thought I, foolish heart, thy yearning 
stay: 
From those far hills thine own of beauty 
seem. 
And there for thine some restless heart 
may long! 



[13] 



HUMANITY 

Deep answers deep along that gloomy shore ; 
Far out ships hail, then pass and speak no 

more. 
Only the great lights on the headlands burn ; 
Truth, right, and peace — toward these the 

ages yearn. 



[14] 



IF HEARTS WERE CANDLES 

If hearts were candles 

Shining through the night, 

I wonder would I see 
One tender light? — 

One candle gleaming 

Brightly out to me, 
To turn my footsteps homeward — 

And to thee ! 



[16] 



VOYAGERS 

A HARBOR there is where the ships go out — 

Frail little ships they are — 
With white sails poised to the kiss of the wind 

Over the gleaming bar. 

Over the great wide world they go, 

Breasting the foaming tides, 
Until they rest in the havens afar 

Where the dark storm never strides. 

Some never return from their distant quest - 

Lost, and none knows where — 
And the years go by, but never again 

Over the seas they fare. 

And where is the harbor whence they sail 

Under the blue above? 
The harbor is found in the hearts of men ; 

The ships are their words of love. 



[16] 



THE HOME LIGHTS 

O TENDER lights afar that call us home, 

Across the darkened miles how bright you 
burn! 
As if beseeching wandering feet no more to 
roam, 
But back among the old scenes to return. 

Not all of us would walk life's homeland ways. 
Far o'er the hills the Unseen calls the heart ; 

Youth hears the summons sweet, and no more 
stays 
To play in lowly fields a humble part. 

And love in vain may long to hold the feet 
That yearn to tread the white road o'er the 
hills 
Which runs to meet the stars with windings fleet, 
Far from the valleys where man sows and 
tills. 

But evermore the gentle lights shall burn 

In ceaseless watching for the hearts that 
roam. 
And we who at gray even homeward yearn 
Shall smile through tears and bless the lights 
of home. 



[17] 



AN OLD INN 

A PATRIARCH asleep 

Beneath the drowsy elms, 

Calm in the old content 

Of other centuries — 

What tales of merry hours his lips could tell, 

Of cronies old, of wistful face from far, 

Of beggar filled, of birthnight and burial morn. 

Of shy, coquettish, passing eyes — closed, ah, 

for many years ; 
What tales — as one might speak 
In reverie, tenderly, brokenly. 
Of vanished things, with pauses, halting 
For recalling and a bit of 
Dreaming; if he might wake and speak 
What happy hours — 
But he shall waken 
Never ! 



[18] 



THE FROLIC WIND 

The wind laughed down the valley, 
And sang to the whispering trees ; 

It kissed the flowers rudely, 
And tumbled the laden bees. 

It played with a maiden's ringlets, 

It startled a drowsy fire, 
And wrought by a dreaming river 

The reeds in a low-tuned lyre. 

It stole from a flowery garden 
A burden of sweet perfume, 

And scattered the scent of the roses 
About in a dark sick-room. 

It paused on a city corner. 

And tugged at the passers-by; 

It crept in a chimney corner. 

And moaned as a ghost would sigh. 

With joyous hands it pummeled 

A noisy window-pane. 
And shook a swinging shutter 

With aU its might and main. 

It bent o'er a weary workman 

Where he toiled in a sultry place, 

[19] 



And, pursing its lips with coolness, 
Blew soft on his heated face. 

It stopped where a bird was singing, 
And, catching the lilt of the song. 

Bore it to one in anguish. 

Who smiled and listened long. 

At last, when the day was dying. 
It fled down the golden west. 

And far beyond the mountains 
Sank to its evening rest. 



[20] 



STORM 

The lightning's lances flaming o'er earth's rim 
Crashed and splintered on the mountain's 

shield ; 
The graj^-plumed troopers of the rain on field 
And wood swept after, leaving, stark and dim, 
The sodden miles ; ranked, dark and grim, 

The clouds' battalions down the gray steeps 

reeled 
Like foam-tipped flood; on peaks the priest 
winds kneeled, 
In mighty tone arose the battle hymn. 

Day fled before the downward plunging horde 
And earth resounded with their thundering 
feet, 
In mounting tides they tossed and whirled 
and spun ; 
Then o'er the eastern hills a radiance poured; 
The storm's black squadrons turned in wild 
retreat 
Before the golden armies of the sun ! 



[21] 



THE LEGEND OF THE FADELESS 
ROSE 

In Spain the elders tell the legend o'er 
To listeners about the rose-hung door. 

Once in a castle dwelt two lords of old, 
One kind of heart, the other cruel, cold. 

One eve the warder came who guards the gates, 
And said : " A figure at the portal waits. 

*^ It would not enter in, but bids me say 
That it would speak with you without delay." 

Then cried the baron dark : " Swift shall I go ! 
This begging one strength of my arm shall 
know ! " 

Returning later, answered he : "I smote 
A beggar bold, and cast him in the moat ! " 

The warder came again with cringing mien — 
" A figure at the outer gate is seen." 

" This time I go," the gentle knight replied, 
" Such nights as these worn travelers have 
died." 



[2^] 



Returning in his hand a rose he held 
From whose white heart a wondrous perfume 
welled. 

He said: '' I saw a maiden at the door; 
She vanished in the storm-wind's gusty roar. 

" This rose she gave me which her bosom bore, 
And said that it would bloom for evermore." 

And even now, some say, the white rose blooms 
With beauty shining in the dim, gray rooms. 

Its perfume brings to men glad dreams of 

spring, 
The song of birds, the low wind's murmuring. 

A meaning in the legend many find : 
Fair gifts has life for those whose hearts are 
kind. 



[23] 



THE ANCIENT CALL 

The wind is a hale old fellow, 

A gypsy and vagabond ; 
He's wandered the world all over, 

And even a little beyond. 

He bends to the youth in the meadow, 

Dreaming of lands that lie 
Fairer than hill and valley 

Under his homeland sky. 

He bends to the youth, and he voices 

A lure that is ever strong; 
Fellowship true and promise, 

He weaves in a weft of song. 

" Heigh-ho, laddie, would you wonders see.'' 

Then a happy rover must you be ! 

Drop your plow and harrow, leave this life so 

narrow. 
And come along — just come along with me! " 

He stoops to the lad in the city. 

Dreaming of hills afar. 
Where God's great winds blow nightly, 

And golden is every star. 

He stoops, and he sings so softly, 
His voice is like meadow streams, 
[24] 



But ever one thought threads lightly, 
The lilt of his wayward themes : 

" Heigh-ho, laddie, would you wonders see? 
Take with me the hill ways, far and free ! 
Far away we'll follow April and the swallow ! 
Come along — just come along with me!" 

The wind is a hale old fellow. 

But the heart within his breast 
Beats in common with the throbbing 

Of youth's longing and unrest. 

So he called the young hearts vanished 

Long ago in ages dim. 
And he calls them now as gayly 

To up and follow him ! 



[25] 



THE COMMON WAYS 

The little waves of Galilee 
Now touch all human shores, 

The little ways of Nazareth 
Run to all earthly doors. 

The peace He found one quiet eve 

Among the olives gray 
We find who walk our garden aisles 

At hushing of the day. 

In silent rooms of prayer we know 
What lonely watch must be 

Ere we can leave with soul serene 
Our dim Gethsemane. 

The shadowed hill of Calvary 
On every life looks down, 

And we go up like Him to win 

The Cross — and then the Crown ! 



[«6] 



THE INN 

There weary travelers lay their burdens down, 

Nor ever rise to take them up with morn ; 
There saint and sinner rest, the sage, the 
clown ; 
There hushed are voice of praise and voice of 
scorn. 

Down corridors that never sound with din. 
Where enter winds that from all singing 
cease. 
An angel moves ; if asked by venturers in 
What sought the sleepers there, she answers, 
" Peace." 



[aT] 



WHEN EVENING LIKE AN ANGEL 

When evening like an angel walks 
The dim old village street, 

And children's homing voices die 
In echoes far and sweet, 

I watch the home lights softly glow 

Between the arched trees 
Like lights of love along life's way 

Or by its chartless seas; 

I hear low greetings in the dusk. 
The word of friend to friend, 

The tender phrase of one who meets 
A love at journey's end; 

And o'er the village hearths and homes 

In fancy I can see 
The angel of the evening speak 

A benedicite! 



[28] 



THE CHERISHED 

Her home was quaint and quiet, 
Some distance from the street, 

And o'er it vines ran riot, 
Around were flowers sweet. 

The older people called her 

" A spinster " in a way 
That made it seem a sad thing 

To be alone and gray. 

But one wee lad who loved her 

(Her sugar cookies, too) 
Thought God had made his spinsters 

In number all too few! 



[29] 



THE BATTLEFIELD 

Here where hell triumphed for a crimson day, 
And rose the cries that still must echo far 
Amid the spaces linking star with star, 
Sunshine and shadow keep a love-tryst gay. 
Wood-winds, from forest aisles, with light 
touch sway 
Shy meadow flowers; where tangled thickets 

are. 
Bright wings glint goldenly; and from her 
jar 
Of silver. Summer blows sweet scents away. 

No sign is here of that dread battle-ground. 
So well the grass has woven through brief 
years 
Its kindly shroud, and Summer spent its 
gold: 
Within this peace, so tender and profound, 
How hollow seem the victor's boastful cheers 
And fame of conquerors in ages old ! 



[80] 



LONGING 

Just a bit of longing for an absent face — 
How it brings the shadows in a sunny place 1 

Just a bit of longing for a happy voice, 
And the heart finds nothing making it rejoice. 

Just a bit of longing for a roguish smile 
Makes the day seem longer, lengthens every 
mile. 

Just a bit of longing for a footstep's sound 
Keeps the heart alistening to the footsteps 
'round. 

Just a bit of longing makes love seem far more, 
When, the parting ended — love meets us at 
the door! 



[31] 



THE CROSS 

Symbol of shame for years beyond our count, 
Its form became upon the shadowed mount 
Symbol of love, of faith, of hope and cheer, 
That holier grows through every human year. 

But not the cross alone, for life as well 

Is now for us a holy miracle. 

And all its darker, meaner moments share 

Some of the beauty Christ brings everywhere. 



[32] 



DAY'S CLOSE 

*' Farewell," the wind sang through the gar- 
den, 
Loath to leave his loved ones there ; 
" Good-night," the flowers answered ; 
sweetly 
Rose their whispers on the air. 

" Good-by," the harpist fountain 

Played upon his silver strings. 
And the tinkling notes fell lightly 

Where the rose-vine sways and swings. 

" All the night calm be thy slumber," 
Murmured far the meadow streams, 

Their low, lingering accents mingling; 

And the thrush replied, " Sweet dreams ! " 



[33] 



THE SECRET 

O, LITTLE bird, you sing 
As if all months were June ; 

Pray tell me ere you go 
The secret of your tune? 

" I have no hidden word 
To tell, nor mystic art; 

I only know I sing 

The song within my heart ! " 



[34] 



THE WELLS OF SLEEP 

The wells of sleep are in a sunset land 

Where purple shadows hedge the low-hung 
trees, 

Where all is still from stir or song or speech, 
And never leaves move with a restless breeze. 

When day is done each human heart waits there 
The silver cup that bears the draught of 
sleep. 
And brings a peace that soothes and comforts 
fair 
While through the night the cool gray 
shadows creep. 

The heart grows weary with the setting sun, 
The feet must weary on the paths of day : 

No greater gift the Master gave to earth — 
The wells of sleep where burdens slip away. 



[36] 



A SON OF PAN 

In Roman woods the nightingale, 

In English lanes the lark, 
But in my own New England vale 

The minstrel robin — hark ! 

How quaintly from the apple tree 
He sounds his clear-toned flute; 

He little cares if all the world 
Around is hushed and mute. 

A brother, he, to troubadours 

And singers long ago ; 
A comrade hail on any trail 

Through sunshine, rain or blow. 

Sweet in the dusks of Italy 

May sing the nightingale; 
In English lanes the happy lark 

When hawthorns bud and pale. 

But never there does search reveal 

To longing eyes of man 
A true descendant, pure of blood. 

To claim the wreath of Pan. 

When spring bloom dims New England hills. 

An exile though he seems. 
You hear him pipe in merry mood 

The cheery old wood-dreams ! 
[36] 



TO ONE GROWN OLD 

So softly have thy years come unto thee, 
I can not think of them but as the snow 

With muffled step when Autumn's leaves 

are low — 

That steals o'er field and woodland silently. 

From all regret and longing thou art free ; 
Thy Springtime's rain ne'er dimmed the sun- 
light's glow; 
Thy Autumn was serene, yet thou didst know 

The certain sorrows of humanity. 

Thy Winter is not that of chill and storm, 
Of grieving winds and dark sky overcast. 
Of stricken brook the shrouding snowdrift 
hides ; 
But rather that of hearth side, bright and 
warm. 
Of friendships growing sweeter to the last, 
Because within thy heart the Spring 
abides. 



[37] 



AUTUMN 

No more the cricket's quiet mirth 
Sounds from his grassy door, 

Or speaks the distant whippoorwill 
His admonition o'er. 

The autumn songs are tender songs, 

But with low minor strains 
That seem to breathe of long farewells. 

Of mists and moaning rains. 

We vow that we will merry be. 

And fill the days with cheer, 
But springtime songs seem somehow false 

With autumn's quiet here. 

These are the days when hearts draw near. 
And love comes close to keep 

The tender blossoms of the soul 
From lifelong winter sleep. 

So while the gay, glad summer throngs 

To silence deep return. 
Our souls shall swing their portals wide, 

And bright our hearths shall bum ! 



[38] 



THE HILLS IN ABSENCE 

There's the song of a storm on the old hill 
trails, 
And the lure of a vanished day ; 
There's the sound of the waves that are never 
still, 
As they roll on the open bay. 

There's the white, still hush of the waiting 
woods. 

And the call of the deer at eve. 
And the sough of the pines that forever tell 

Why the ancient oceans grieve. 

There's the camp-fire's gleam on the dusky 
trees. 
There's a pipe and a bit of song. 
While the stars above through the branches 
smile, 
And the big moon dreams along. 

And here are the streets with their hordes of 
men 

That the gleam of the gold pursue ; 
Oh, give me the gold on the pines at dusk — 

My hills, how I long for you! 



[39] 



THE HIDDEN GATE 

There is a gateway o'er which trees 

Unlifting shadows throw, 
Where down the gently moving breeze 

Forever roses blow. 

About it creep gray vines that hide 

A carven symbol there, 
And underneath the leaves abide 

Shy pilgrims of the air. 

High grows the grass whose whispering 

Is ever grave and low. 
Who don the dews' bright glistering 

When cool the wood-winds blow. 

The symbol carved is " Youth," my dear, 

The gate the vines o'ergrow 
Leads gently down through many a year 

To youth's bright long ago. 

It opens on a garden fair — 
The Garden sweet of Dreams, 

Where wind-blown bloom perfumes the air, 
And songs have happy streams. 

O let us once more swing the gate. 

The Garden's beauty know! 
But vain he seeks returning late 

The Golden Long Ago. 
[40] 



MEMORIES 

Like fragrance blown from garden aisles 

Of roses after rain, 
Sweet through the windows of the heart 

Loved memories drift again. 

Like magic borne from twilight flutes 
Through evening's starry door, 

Or song of thrush from woodland dusk. 
Loved voices speak once more. 

Like that sweet touch of twilight's lips 

The drowsy flowers know, 
We feel again the tender kiss 

That hushed us long ago. 

Oh, summer night, you summon back 
From lost and vanished years 

The music stilled, the dreams forgot, 
The laughter and the tears ! 



[41] 



AN OLD CHURCH 

Here hollowed steps and shining woodwork 

show 
The passing feet and touch of long ago ; 
And vain all search though sent the wide world 

o'er 
To seek the feet that walk these aisles no more. 

Yet here the childish hands took hold on things 
Whose strength outlasts the ancient might of 

kings ; 
Here footsteps, wavering with the years, 
Have climbed to peace beyond the Vale of Tears. 

Around the ivied walls the drifting years are 

piled. 
And fading leaves are blown where summer 

smiled ; 
Dreams of a day — elsewhere such thought may 

come; 
Here Christ has touched doubt's lips and made 

them dumb! 



[42] 



DUSK AND DAWN 

So softly came the dusk, 

When night met day, 
No eye could see the light 

Fade to shadows gray. 

Upon earth's weary eyes 
The twilight gently fell, 

And brought the hush of peace 
Ineffable. 

So softly comes death's sleep 

With life's release, 
No heart shall ever know 

When it finds peace ; 

But as beyond the night 
There waits the dawn, 

So shall we wake, and find — 
The shadows gone! 



[43] 



SPRING RAIN 

Gray and misty is the rain 
Down the quiet, winding lane ; 

The pools look up, 

Each with a cup 
Held for the sunshine, but in vain. 

Chilly seems the windless air; 
Dampness lingers everywhere, 

Though bright within 

The fire-elfs spin. 
Ere up the chimney's dark they fare. 

Memories of vanished years. 
Laughter stilled, forgotten tears — 

These come when rain 

Beats on the pane. 
And dusk from western valley nears. 

But hark! Adown the misty lane 
Ripples a merry, mirthful strain! 

Our hearts find cheer. 

For there we hear 
A robin chuckling in the rain ! 



[44] 



THE ANGEL OF THE TWILIGHT 

When roads of earth grow dusky with the 
night, 

And home lights gleam in vale and on dim 
height ; 

When altars of the west from flaming cease 

And from their songs the winds of day find 
peace ; 

The angel of the twilight comes from deeps un- 
known 

Where beacon-light of stars is never thrown. 

On country roads where winking windows smile, 
Through glowing city streets where mile on 

mile 
The night is fringed with fire, through forest 

deep 
And woodland aisle in slumber calm asleep. 
Beyond the last far lingering light of day 
That fades among the stars, she makes her way. 

The haunts of men she enters, cottage small. 
The shepherd's hut, the princely castle hall, 
With step so light none heeds her drawing near. 
With face so fair, if seen, no heart would fear; 
In all so like a mother, on her breast. 
The weary heart could find a perfect rest. 



[45] 



Beneath her touch the restless hands grow still, 
Beneath her kiss the hurt finds balm for ill ; 
She breathes upon the tired eyes of grief, 
And slow they close in slumber's sweet relief; 
In tender arms she bears hearts wounded sore 
Where hate can scar and failure bruise no more. 

So comes the twilight angel when the rose 
Of day is ash in western garden close; 
She comes to all yet none has seen her face. 
Though all have slumbered, hushed in her em- 
brace : 
No more than this we know at dawn of light : 
She came, a lovely visitant of night! 



[46] 



VESPERS 

Around the dusky brow of night 
The sunset bound a fillet bright, 
And like a priestess at a pyre, 
She knelt beside the altar fire. 

From dim cathedrals of the hills 
The mingled chant of winds and rills 
Rose softly on the evening air, 
The solemn vesper rites to share. 

Slow died the altar's flame of gold ; 
The face of night, bright aureoled. 
In shadow dimmed, as, kneeling low. 
She watched the embers' fading glow. 

The chanting winds grew still ; the brooks 
Fell silent in the forest nooks ; 
And down the world's vast aisles night went 
With folded arms and soul content! 



[47] 



ASSURANCE 

A THOUSAND shining days shall flow 
Across the dawn's pearl bars ; 

A thousand nights shall come and go 
With splendor of the stars. 

And one shall bear you far away, 
As dreams bear one in sleep, 

Be3^ond the utmost verge of day, 
Beyond the sunset-deep. 

Dread not the parting that must be ; 

Yours is no journey new; 
Hearts go that way eternally, 

And I shall follow you ! 



[48] 



AS THE YEARS PASS 

Come softly, years, though be your coming 
swift. 
That thinking not of you life's way I go, 
Glad for tlie sun, the rain, love's precious 
gift — 
Then, sudden, find the hills are white with 
snow! 



[49] 



REUNION 

Within the murmuring river 
The singing brooks are free, 

And rivers rest forever 
In the quiet of the sea. 

Each cloud from silver chalice 
Gives back to earth the rain; 

Paths go from hut and palace, 
But each returns again. 

A pilgrim westward wending 
Toward the setting sun 

Finds at his journey's ending 
The dawn and sunset one. 

Unto the broken-hearted 
Such thought is ever sweet : 

Though love from love be parted, 
Love with love shall meet! 



[50] 



THE BROTHERHOOD 

That some hurts lie too deep for balm of tears, 
Each heart knows well, or will as speed the 
years. 

Each joins the silent brotherhood who wear 
No cross, nor gray monastic pallet share. 

But who, by gentle deed and touch of hand. 
Show that they are of those who understand. 

No balm there is to heal — and yet how sweet 
The quiet word, the fingers' pressure fleet! 



[51] 



POWER 

How pitiful seem all the burdened years, 

How mean the might of all things gross and 
base, 

How empty all the future's formless fears, 
Before the smiling of one brave, strong face ! 



[52] 



A QUESTION 

If I take the path to song 

And you take the road to gold, 

I wonder if we shall meet 
When the years are old? 

If I bear a harp with me 

And you have a golden scale, 

I wonder if one shall win — 
Or if both shall fail? 

Over my path there go 

Pilgrims but now and then; 

Over your road there tread 
A million men. 

Perhaps, it is wise and best 

Our pathways should wander far, 

Yours where toil's thunders rise, 
Mine where the thrushes are. 

I wonder if I with a harp 
And you with a bag of gold 

Will meet on the way of peace 
When the years are old? 

I wonder if we shall speak 

With the oldtime friendliness? 

If the Inn at the journey's end 
Is — " Happiness " ? 
[S3] 



IN AFTER YEARS 

How often in the after years when time 
Has touched us whitely with his frosty rime, 
In silent moments never spoken of, 
We long to know again a mother's love. 

Bright gold, hard labor's guerdon, may be ours. 
And fame have brought us satisfying dowers. 
Yet in the moment when our life has all — 
All would we give to hear her gently call. 

When fevered with the fret of life and toil. 
The strife of living, and the day's turmoil, 
How do we yearn, so deeply and so much. 
To feel again the healing of her touch. 

When bitter in defeat, by failure stung, 
When from the heart, hot, careless words are 

flung. 
How thought brings back, our dark moods to 

beguile. 
The pleased, reproving laughter in her smile ! 

Ah, mothers, little do you know or guess 
How in our secret hearts your name we bless ; 
How you are present through life's joys and 

tears. 
Forgotten not through life's increasing years ! 

[54] 



TEACHERS 

The little brook that down the vale 

Sings on though days be bright or gray 

Has taught me how I, too, may sing 
My cares and griefs away. 

The flowers growing by the path 

With faces lifted to the sky 
Have taught me where to look for Him 

Whose truth I journey by. 

The roadside spring whose waters well 

To quench the thirst of man 
Has taught me how my life may be 

Of service in God's plan. 

And so it is where'er I go, 

Whate'er I hear or see ; 
The humblest dwellers of the earth 

Are always teaching me ! 



[55] 



THOSE WHO ANSWER NOT 

I WONDERED whj soHie loved one did not speak 
Across the silent void that we call death, 
But I have learned. From on a wooded peak 
I called far down to one, till spent was breath, 
Who answered not nor looked, though joyously 
Would he have hurled a merry, ringing word 
To my far seat with greeting cheerily. 
Could he, within the rocky vale, have heard. 
I watched him pass beyond my longing sight. 
Nor deem me waiting on the mountainside; 
So those who watch from death's far, upper 

height 
Can reach us not who on earth's plains abide : 

Theirs is the wish to call with friendly cheer ; 

Ours is the silence deep — we cannot hear ! 



[56] 



IN ANSWER 

Shall I remember you? When hearts 
Forget to ache, and nevermore 

Lips rest on lips ere Love departs 
Beyond the opened door: 

When at the window of the years 
No more eyes backward look to see 

Love enter in the vale of tears 
That fronts eternity: 

When 'mid the tread of countless feet, 
The heart no more shall wait to hear 

Familiar steps, nor start to greet 
The face no longer near: 

When memory has gone from men. 
And all the dreams of joys they knew 

And hope of joys to come, say, then — 
I have forgotten you! 



[57] 



THE DIALS 

With fingers softer than the touch of death 
The sundial writes the passing of the day, 
The hours unfolding slow to twilight gray, 

The gleaming moments vanished in a breath. 

But sunny hours alone the sundial names ; 
All unrecorded are the midnight spans 
And vain within the dusk the watcher scans 

The marble face ; thereon no record flames. 

So on eternal dials that God may hold. 

And those more humble in the human heart, 
No bitter deeds their passing hours impart; 

Kind deeds alone are marked in fadeless gold! 



[58] 



LILACS OF MEMORY 

It never seems that spring has come 

Until my lilacs bloom, 
And shy winds bear within the house 

The drifting wraith-perfume. 

I never know until I scent 

Its spirit in the place 
That I shall bend no more to kiss 

One gentle flower-face. 

For long ago when lilacs dreamed 

In bloom beside the door, 
Spring took her far beyond the hills. 

And brings her back no more! 



[59] 



THE SEASON'S END 

Now rounds the apple on the bough, 
And glows the aster by the road, 

The birds have left the graying nest, 
The milkweeds scattered far their load, 

At twilight, redder burns the sun — 

Ah, lad, the trysting time is done. 

The autumn fires in spirals slow 
Mount up like incense to the sky. 

The locust plays his failing fife. 
The brook in muffling robe goes by, 

The thrush at twilight sings no more — 

Ah, lad, the mating time is o'er. 

The leaves put on a raiment bold 

For final revels of the year. 
The fading beauty of the hills 

Wanes to a grayness, dim and drear, 
The winds go by with presage cold — 
Ah, lad, 'tis love that grows not old ! 



[60] 



THE MASQUERADER 

A GRAY form flitted from the quiet wood ; 

I wondered what the vagabond could bring; 
Then as the gay wind lifted high the hood — 

I saw the dimpled, laughing face of Spring! 

I knew not what she hid beneath her cloak, 
As on she tripped with swift-blown kiss to me, 

But everywhere the dreaming blossoms woke. 
And winds were glad with summer's prophecy. 



[61] 



EVENING RAIN 

As gentle as the voice of love 
Low-speaking in the eve, 

As tender as the word of love 
To wistful hearts that grieve, 

The murmuring evening rain I hear 

Beyond my open door; 
And in my heart its summoning 

Brings memories of yore. 

The drifting scent of fading rose 
Within my garden walls 

Upon the warm and whispering air 
Like some sweet incense falls. 

The light wind bears it to my room, 
And like a charm it brings 

The rapture of dear days agone. 
The joy of vanished springs. 

Oh, ministry of twilight hours, 
No holier balm for pain. 

No richer gift of peace you have 
Than breath of evening rain ! 



[62] 



A FOOTNOTE 

Age glancing through his tattered book of life 
Reread the fading notes that told of strife 
And peace, regret and hope, forever past, 
And underneath them all he wrote this last — 
The rich reward of life's long journeying, 
The comfort that the years alone can bring: 
" Where once I wept, I smile." 



[63] 



THE FULL LIFE 

Until one knows how keen the hurt 
Of failure after strife may be ; 

Until one takes with humble heart 
The meeds of victory ; 

Until one learns with unreserve 
To give up what is greatly dear; 

Until one learns that weight of worth 
Is not in length of year; 

Until one looks upon the face 

Of one who speaks to him no more ; 

Until one knocks with bruised hand 
Upon a fast-closed door; 

Until one sees in every day 

Eternity is schemed; 
He has not found the good of life — 

He has not lived but dreamed ! 



[64] 



IN THE ANGEL'S BOOK 

I DO not hope to find beneath my name 
Tlie sounding syllables of an earthly fame 
But just a little friendly word or two 
To show that you loved me and I loved you ! 



[66] 



IN A TWILIGHT GARDEN 

Who walks a garden aisle at hush of eve, 
When winds of day are still, and everywhere 

The dreaming shadows rest, can well believe 
The flowers have an evening hour of prayer. 

When round the heart the restful silence folds, 
And life's tumultuous turmoil throbs no more, 

It seems as if the friendly twilight holds 
A healing Presence worn souls hunger for. 

One in the garden's dusky peace can guess 
Why Jesus longed one starlit night to be 

Far from the restless city's din and press, 
Within the quiet of Gethsemane. 



[66] 



THE WIND'S INVITATION 

Leave thy work and follow, lad ; 

The spring is in the air; 
Adown the ways a laughter plays 

Up and on we fare. 

Music from the meadows 
Where the brooks awake — 

There is healing, laddie. 
For an old heartache ! 

Hush ! the trees are telling 
Dreams of winter long — 

Hark ! that voice ethereal 
Wraps the world with song. 

Up, away, and caring 

Not for any fate; 
At the end of faring 

Love is at the gate. 

Up and follow, laddie. 

Arm and arm with mirth ; 

Farewell to winter's sorrow — 
The spring has come to earth! 



[67] 



THE FIRST SORROW 

By this, O grieving heart, you enter in 
A brotherhood as ancient as the stars, 
Immortal as the grief that David knew. 
And limitless as are the dreams of men. 

By this you enter in to mysteries 
Which only those who suffer know; all life 
Shall have new meanings rich with truth, 
And you shall see not darkly as before. 

There is no bond like sorrow in the world 
To knit the hearts of men in common good ; 
Above their dead the foemen are as friends. 
And grief beside the ashes turns to love. 

By this are you made kin in holy rite 
To greatest of the earth and lowliest ; 
Forevermore you share their hope and faith. 
And in that sharing shall your soul find peace. 



[68] 



WITHOUT THEE 

When whitelj blooms the rose of morn 

In gardens of the sky, 
And gay with laughter of the birds 

The lyric winds go by, 
I often think how dull would be 

The morning without thee! 

When noon has swept the hills with gold 
And tinted bright the trees, 

When in their leafy tents the birds 
Have hushed their minstrel glees, 

I think how gray and lone would be 
The noontide without thee ! 

When evening calls the thrushes' choir 

For vesper service sweet. 
And from the clangor of the day 

Hearts find a calm retreat, 
I know how void of rest would be 

A twilight without thee ! 

You are to me the morning's joy. 
The noontide's sunny beam. 

The twilight's friendly hand of peace. 
And ever do I dream 

How great my need of you will be 
Through time's eternity ! 

[69] 



SUNSET FROM A CITY TOWER 

A MOTE between the soaring skies and earth, 
I peer into the deep abyss below, 
Where sweeps a tide that hath nor ebb nor 
flow 
With murmur as of devils' distant mirth. 
In its great womb a thousand sounds have birth, 
Merged in one mighty chant, confused and 

low; 
Far down the lights burn with a dull red glow 
Like deep-gloomed forges set in night's black 

girth. 
Then Fancy stoops to Thought : I think of all 
The souls that whirl fore'er on that great 
tide, 
The face of youth, of sin, of peace, of 
years ; 
There Death walks nightly when the shadows 
fall, 
There Love keeps watch some one beloved be- 
side. 
There sorrow follows joy, and laughter, 
tears. 

Then turning toward the far, dark-hooded west. 
With thoughts full of life's strange unrest 

and woe, 
I saw the darkened heavens burst — and lo ! 

[70] 



As with great hands the clouds apart were 

pressed — 
Forth leaped the sunset on its evening quest ! 
Wide as the great earth's verge its bright 

tides flow, 
With crimson fire the city skylines glow, 
While chimes are singing hymns of peace and 

rest. 
So shall we leave earth's fevered winding ways, 
Its dark dim paths where surest footsteps 
fail, 
And some day see the darkness part and 
bare 
The towered heights of Paradise ablaze. 

While sweetly ringing bells our coming hail. 
And stands the Master with his welcome 
there J 



[71] 



A SONG OF THE ROAD 

Ho, for the voice of the winds, 

CalHng the freeborn far, 
O'er the crest of the earth to a kingly birth, 

Friends with the northern star! 

Ho, for the sunny world. 

Blossom and bird and bee. 
For the song of the streams, the cool night 
dreams. 

The lure of the sky- rimmed sea ! 

Ho, for the red of the blood, 

Stirring the restless heart, 
For the brave who would stray o'er the world's 
great way 

Down where the dawn tides start! 

Ho, for the voice of the road. 

Calling the pilgrim far, 
O'er the crest of the earth to a kingly birth. 

Friends with the northern star! 



[72] 



GENESIS 

Out of tlie silence, song; 

Out of the bud, a rose; 
Out of the rose, the scent 

The wood- wind blows. 

Out of the years, a faith ; 

Out of life's travail, truth ; 
Out of the heart, the charm 

Of ageless youth. 

Out of the things unseen. 
Out of the inner dream. 

Ever in beauty is born 
The love supreme ! 



[73] 



THE WAGER 

El Shamab, was a builder 
Of fame long years ago; 

Ar Hamel was a poet 
Of whom we little know. 

But once, a legend has it, 
Shamar stood and smiled 

Before a palace golden 

Which he had reared and styled. 

" Ar Hamel, I'm a builder, 
And you a singer — say. 

You write a song ; I'll wager 
Your song first fades away ! " 

Ar Hamel wrote a love song ; 

A fragile thing it seemed 
Beside the palace golden 

That in the sunshine gleamed. 

But when the lofty palace 
Had crumbled into dust. 

And on the wind was dancing. 
The plaything of each gust; 

When Shamar long had vanished, 
Forgotten was his name. 

When Hamel, happy-hearted. 
Was known no more to fame ; 
[74] 



still in that land the love song 
Was sung by lovers true: 

The love song was immortal, 
Its theme forever new ! 



[75] 



IN AN OLD GARDEN FORGOTTEN 

Here even sunbeams stumble as they thread 
The tangled aisles where weed and thicket 

twine 
In clasps unriven by the years ; here vine 

With vine weaves shrouds to hide the ghostly 
dead 

Of vanished springs. Here dying roses shed 
Their petals, drifting memories that shrine 
With fleeting glory of a garland fine, 

A haunt whence one might think all beauty fled. 

Yet here among this riot wild of bloom 

And leaf, where Summer heaps the refuse of 
Her toil, and shadow close to shadow 
clings, 
A vesper thrush amid the thickets' gloom 

Makes sweet the night — a symbol of the 
lave 
That dwells among the heart's forgotban 
things ! 



[76] 



OLD PORTS 

I LOVE to wander in the dim old ways 

Where seamen came from countries far and 

wide ; 
The sleepy wharves redolent with the tide, 

The battered ships, gray veterans of grim 
frays, 

An ancient sailor's yarns or salty lays — 
They lure me ever to the blue seaside, 
For there I find my dull thoughts vivified 

With musing in the dreams of other days. 

There is a beauty in the oldtime things 

That men have touched and loved, which 
served their need, 
Yet which they leave when sailing days are 
done; 
Around old ports the loving fancy flings 

A charm that wakens vanished life and deed. 
And brings back days of glories lost and 
won. 



[77] 



THE SUNSET ISLES 

Still are the towered isles beneath the sunset's 
smile 
That lulls the earth with benediction's holy 
peace, 
And bids the soul's gray chapel close a little 
while 
From din of life and wrangling tongues that 
will not cease. 

The star-gemmed ripples whisper round the 
dark shore stones 
With accents tender as a mother's good night 
tune; 
The priestlike winds to music hush the far sea 
moans, 
And soothe the breakers' sullen mutter to a 
croon. 

The winding walks beneath the trees that bend 
with bloom. 
Like veiled nuns in white who fear men's pry- 
ing eyes. 
Are still and sweet with scented shadows but 
no gloom. 
And here and there the silver spraying foun- 
tains rise. 



[78] 



There down the twilight aisles the happy lovers 
stroll, 
With woven arms and hearts merged deep in 
love's accord ; 
There laughter like a cloud-borne lark springs 
from the soul, 
And to the yearning arms of grief joy is re- 
stored. 

Soft voices speak in mellow murmurs through 
the dusk, 
And seem like half-forgotten music heard 
again, 
But reft from low mortality's crude earthen 
husk 
That stills the finer strains bom in the souls 
of men. 

The dark-eyed, mystic dreamers know not where 
they lie. 
Those happy sunset isles forever smiling fair. 
But sometimes through our broken dreams we 
see them nigh, — 
And pray that we, when toil is done, may 
enter there. 



[79] 



NIGHT AND THE AGES 

Dusk with a charm has lulled 
The noisy world to sleep; 

Only the stars keep watch, 
And the never-resting deep. 

Think of the countless years 
That night has come to men, 

Going they knew not where, 
Nor if it came again! 

Over the sparkling blue 

Of the gem-isled Grecian seas 

It crept with its shadows cool, 
Hiding the argosies. 

Csesar its coming knew 

Where, by his camp-fire's light. 
He dreamed of his far-off Rome 

And the steps that lead to might. 

Over red Waterloo 

It laid the shroud of peace. 
Cooling the parching lips. 

Bringing with death surcease. 

Centuries now have gone — 
Still do we watch it come. 

Touching the heart with peace 
Till railing lips are dumb. 
[80] 



Here do I welcome it, 

As countless men have done; 
Ages have come and passed, 

But night makes mankind one! 



[81] 



REQUIEM 

The ships come in from the sea, 
And the tide moves inwardly; 
The wild bird seeks its nest, 
And the heart its rest. 

The winds that ranged the hills 
And sang with stars and rills, 
From mirth and music cease, 
And the heart finds peace. 

On paths that backward turn. 
Where home lights softly burn, 
Feet haste, no more to roam, — 
And the heart goes home. 



[8«] 



1 



THE WATCHER 

When, Joy has left the gray, deserted rooms, 
When Friendship, Trust, and Dreams for- 
e'er depart, 
Still through the day from dawn to twilight 
glooms, 
Hope watches by the window of the heart I 



[83] 



EXILES 

The homeland hills are dreaming 
Beneath the moon's white beaming, 
And the river murmurs seaward quietly; 
We can hear the wood-winds calling, 
Watch the dark tree-shadows falling, 
The meadow dampness rising mistily. 

Many miles between us lying 
Mock our eager homeward sighing. 
Where we sit alone within the dusk and dream ; 
Think in fancy lights are burning 
Just to welcome our returning. 
Make believe that they are real, not what they 
seem. 

We who exiles are may wander, 

But our hearts grow ever fonder 

Of the old home ways and each familiar scene ; 

Memories of love still bind us. 

Speeding seasons ever find us. 

With hope of our returning ever green. 

When the toil of day is ended. 
And the golden moon ascended, 

Our thoughts go back to homeland hills once ^^m 

more; 'IH 



[84] 



i 



Up the path we hasten lightly 
Where the home lights beckon brightly, 
And we dream our loved ones greet us at the 
door. 



[85] 



THE LOWLY PLEDGE 

There is no song I would not sing for thee, 
Were magic mine to weave the melody. 

There is no deed I would not do for thee, 
If thine, and thine alone, the fame might be. 

There is no death I would not die for thee, 
If dying, thine were immortality. 

Yet as no song nor deed nor death may be 
The gift my love can oifer unto thee. 

This may I do: in small ways faithfully 
Till life is done, serve and be true to thee! 



[86] 



A TWILIGHT PLEA 

Hush thy music, wind of evening; 

Lay thy silver harp aside; 
Let the golden notes, long lingering, 

Drift to peace at eventide. 

Song is sweet, but rest is sweeter. 

When the heart is full with dreams. 

And the thoughts on still paths wander 
Down to immemorial streams. 

Touch the murmuring strings no longer. 
Lest the mellow tones awake 

Ghosts of vanished sighs and laughter. 
Bring once more some old heartache. 

Hush thy music, wind of evening ! 

Let thy thrumming fingers cease; 
Twilight comes, our hearts are weary — 

Nothing would we ask save peace. 



[87] 



SONG'S END 

Think not that song must end, and peace be all. 
In the wide meadows of eternity; 

The lyric brooks that heed the ocean's call 
But join its vast, unending symphony! 



[88] 



